


Summer Peaches

by wargoddess



Series: A Family Affair [11]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bloodplay, Established Relationship, Fruit, Incest, M/M, Multi, PWP, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: Dante is eating a peach.





	Summer Peaches

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt received on Tumblr: "Dante is eating a peach." Technically a standalone, though it also works as part of the "Family Affair" series. Slightly experimental; I initially decided to try and do this as omniscient PoV, but then Dante said "Shyeah, right," and took over. Bastard.

     Dante is eating a peach.

     Dante is eating a peach while stretched out on the couch.  It's late summer.  Local peaches are at their ripest.  This one is huge, soft, full of sweet juice, and Dante is eating it out.  He's taken one big bite already, and now he moves his tongue into the hole that this produced.  He closes his lips over the whole area; slurps.  Then licks a drop from the rim that he somehow managed to miss.

     Dante is eating a peach while Vergil and Nero watch.  Dante can tell what Nero's thinking, because the kid has almost no guile; Vergil's been doing what he can to repair that deficit in his education, but these things take time.  It doesn't help that Nero is also broadcasting his lust on so wide a band that it's a marvel an underworld portal hasn't appeared, spewing out a horde of succubi and tentacle monsters.  The kid's sitting backwards at the bar, back propped against the old wood and feet up on another bar stool that he's appropriated -- a new stool after Vergil broke one during Nero's demonic-sex initiation, and how long ago that seems with Nero there openly yearning to take the place of a peach in his favorite (only) uncle's mouth.  Dante chews, watching him with amusement, and Nero swallows, audibly.  Then he looks away, probably telling himself to stop being a pervert, as if a kid who loves being spitroasted between his two closest relatives could be anything else.  As if a young man with a monster inside him could be anything else.

     Dante, who has decided to use his teeth to peel away another section of dripping peach, turns his gaze on Vergil while he does it.

     Vergil, who has been leaning against a nearby wall while they talk about nothing that matters, unfolds his arms and straightens.  The look on his face makes Nero catch his breath, but _Vergil's_ demon is not some newly-awakened thing struggling to shake off a lifetime of humanish inhibitions.  Vergil has never hesitated to take what he needs.  He comes to the couch and stops there, looming over Dante.

     Dante tilts the peach up over his face, opening his mouth so the juice will drip down into it.  When one drop takes its time, he goes up after it with the tip of his tongue.

     "Give me that," Vergil says.

     "No way," Dante says.  He shuts his eyes, and swallows the piece he's been rolling around on his tongue.  "Get your own."

     "Well, I want _yours_ ," Vergil drawls.  "Anyway, you're dripping it everywhere."

     Dante shrugs.  "What am I supposed to do about that?"  He takes another bite.  The skin indents slowly, slowly, before giving way to his teeth.

     "I think you need to get those clothes off before you make a mess," Vergil says, his voice a low purr.  "It's hot, anyway, isn't it?  You'll be more comfortable naked."

     Dante laughs while he is eating a peach.  But it _is_ a good argument.  Vergil's had years of practice figuring out the right mix of threats and cajoling to get him to obey.  So after a moment, Dante sighs and uncurls from the couch.  He sinks his teeth into the peach to hold it.  His jacket's already off; it _is_ hot in Devil May Cry, and his ceiling fans aren't doing much to help.  He unbuttons his black shirt.  The fabric is silk.  He likes silk.  It breathes well on hot days, or in battle.  It clings to his skin, he knows, while his brother is looking at him and thinking about eating.  (A peach?)  Then Dante slides the shirt off and tosses it aside.

     Dante, who pretends not to notice when Nero slips off his stool and comes over, too.  He _does_ notice, of course.  Their walk is almost the same, Vergil's, Nero's, when they want something.  Vergil's is a little more graceful, quieter; the stalk of a hunter who can strike from any direction.  Nero's is a blatant, prowling frontal attack that comes of believing the prey is already doomed, and just doesn't know it yet.  Cocky little monster.

     Dante grins around his peach as he throws his pants aside and stands nude before them.  Then he plucks the peach from his mouth, and throws Vergil an insouciant look.  "Aren't _you_ hot?"  Vergil's even got his blue jacket on.  Then Dante eyes Nero, whose sleeveless coat is mostly decoration over his bare torso.  Dante lets his gaze roam that torso, appreciating the hell out of every inch of skin the kid shows to the world.  "You seem just fine, though."

     Dante watches Vergil turn a slow rival's gaze on Nero, and Nero instantly orients on Vergil because of it.  Dante smiles while they square off over him.  That'll teach the kid to be cocky.  But the tension doesn't last long before detante.  Nero turns his gaze aside first, of course.  He's strong enough to challenge Vergil and they all know it -- but it'll never happen, outside of something serious.  Because as soon as Vergil relaxes, Nero lifts his eyes again, watching Vergil through his lashes with open hunger.  A smirk pulls Vergil's mouth to one side.  Bastard likes that Nero would rather fuck than fight him.  Dante could get jealous.  He's standing here rimming a piece of fruit, damn it, and all Vergil did was walk across the room.  Or he could be a good uncle, and show the kid how seduction gets done.

     So Dante is lifting the hand that holds the peach.  He licks a line up the inner surface of his forearm.  Instantly two sets of gray-blue eyes shift their focus back to him, unwaveringly.  Yeah, that's much better.

     "Ah, crap," Dante sighs.  "Stuff's getting everywhere."

     Vergil is shrugging off his coat at last.  His gaze never leaves Dante.  "Sloppy.  You'll get it on me, brother, if you're not careful."  Nero, poor boy, watches Dante, but his eyes flick toward Vergil now and again as Vergil undresses.  So much to see.  He's breathing harder.  Vergil, though, is still entirely too controlled.  It's a facade, of course.  Dante can sense what's beneath his brother's surface, and it's raw, urgent stuff.  Vergil wants to fuck him in the worst way.  But Vergil also wants to run this, and that won't do. 

     _Dante's_ the one eating _this_ peach.

     Dante, licking his arm again.  Dante, biting into his own skin, slowly, as if he is the juiciest of fruits.  A thread of blood runs down to mingle with the droplets of peach.

     Vergil pauses in the middle of unzipping his pants, his breath catching and irises glimmering blue-hot, just for an instant.  Dante smiles at them both, around his skin.  He hears Nero murmur a soft, appreciative _Fuuuuuck_.

     "Dante," Vergil says.  His voice is low, rough, warning, two selves with a singular, rapidly intensifying desire.  "You're making a mess."

     Dante turns the hand holding the peach around.  Bites the back of his arm, sending more red lines rolling down his skin.  He licks a little; he isn't as sweet as the peach.  That's all right, though.  The smells of lust -- Vergil's sharp and demanding, Nero's unfocused but intense -- enhance the taste beautifully.

     "Hey, it's not my fault," Dante says, lifting his chin just a little.  Vergil's gaze locks onto his bared throat at once.  "There's just... so much, here."

     "Let me help you clean it up," Nero says, too eagerly.  Vergil lets out a very soft subaural growl, the thrum of which makes Dante shudder all over and Nero duck his eyes immediately.  The kid quickly amends, "Us.  Let _us_ help.  Looks like a two-person job anyway, right?"  Another glance at Vergil, not quite supplicative.  Hopeful, though.  Nero's good about sharing, but he knows Vergil isn't, not always.

     Vergil deigns to forgive the kid's presumption, or at least to not kill him.  Or maybe he's just too distracted to deal with the kid, now, because he steps up to Dante, and he smells like violence.  He's breathing hard too, his lips parted so he can take in Dante's scent, his hands flexing as if clawed; yeah.  Vergil on the brink is the best Vergil.  Dante watches him as he bites into the heel of his hand just underneath the peach, and it hurts like he wants Vergil to hurt him.

     "Right," Vergil breathes, at last acknowledging his son's request.  "Dante?"  Vergil, who can't manage whole sentences anymore.

     Dante, who smiles.  And extends his arms to them both in welcome, in offering.

     Dante is eating a peach.  He bites into it while his lovers bite into him -- Vergil at the shoulder, Nero taking the other arm between his hands, tenderly, and sinking his teeth into the bicep.  Juices run and blood flows and Vergil growls a command;  Nero drops to his knees at once.  Vergil kisses Dante and steals the piece of peach from his mouth, then grins fiercely at him because usually it's Dante stealing his things.  Then he's got Dante by the hair, and Nero's got _both_ of them in his hands, greedy ambitious little fuck, and now Nero's opening his mouth.  Nero is eating something very different from a peach, and Dante groans through the pain of Vergil's grip.  His hand falls to his side and Nero gives up his two treasures long enough to dart over and steal a nibble of peach for himself.  Then the kid returns to his feast, so sweet, peach-juice flavoring every slurp.

     Dante's hand goes loose.  The peach falls to the floor, bouncing into somebody's clothing.  Doesn't matter whose.

     Vergil comes up from Dante's mouth like surfacing from the ocean, his lips wet and streaked with red.  "Well, that won't do," he breathes, and he takes them all down to the floor to follow the peach.

     Dante is not eating a peach.  Nobody's paying attention to the fucking peach.

     But that's okay.  There'll be other peaches.  It's summertime.

**Author's Note:**

> I just decided to put this here so I could control the responses better if the comments got weird. Also because it turned out well for a thing I scrawled out during lunch. But don't send me prompts, damn it! My muse doesn't need any help!
> 
> Whyyyyy isn't it summer yet? I want peaches, now.
> 
> Gonna try things without moderation this time, see how they go.


End file.
